Twilight's Dust
by Chameleon Eyes
Summary: It is a vulnerable time in Hyrule. After the defeat of Ganondorf and the separation of the Twilight Realm, Hyrule begins to reconstruct itself and begin anew. Its susceptibility invites corrupt kingdoms to manipulate Hyrule's leaders. The young princess watches in horror as her kingdom begins to collapse from within. For the first time, the crown on her head feels powerless.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Most characters and events are based off of The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess by Nintendo. I do not intend to make a profit off of the company's ideas. I'm just writing for fun!

**Author's Note:** Hello! Welcome to a brand new Zelda fanfiction based on Twilight Princess! The main characters will be primarily Zelda and Link and their lives after the death of Ganondorf and separation of the Twilight Realm.

Any reviews will be appreciated and read! =)

* * *

**Twilight's Dust**

_by Chameleon Eyes_

* * *

**~ Prologue ~**

* * *

The deafening shatter of the mirror echoed throughout the empty desert, reducing its intensity as it faded in the distance. Rays of light beamed through billions of shards of broken glass, shining vividly and reflecting the Great Desert's setting sun, blinding the two figures that stood in astonishment. It was unusual; to see something that was there before, something so magnificent and intricate and full of beauty, something that was utterly destroyed into a more-yet less-beautiful form. Its shattered pieces could never reform itself into the Mirror of Twilight. The true ruler of the Twilight Realm had decided to break it, to prevent any future turmoil between two opposing worlds.

_Light and shadow can't mix, as we all know…_

Her unusual melancholy tone followed the mirror's daunting echoes, ultimately disappearing into the empty air. The silence that ensued terrified him. It hurt him and broke him to see her disappear, as if her existence was always an illusion, and this was her grand act of exiting from his life.

Suddenly, he was on his knees, his hands grasping blindly at the tiny shards on the ground for a time that felt endless. In a desperate attempt he futilely collected them ignoring the rising pain of cuts and thinking, _just maybe_, he could reconstruct the magnificent mechanism, and from within it she would safely emerge. She would be her usual self. The taunting presence he was so accustomed to, his playful and witty companion that he knew so well.

He was unaware of the waiting figure behind him, watching his back pityingly, though moments later he noticed the long shadow in his peripheral vision. Its darkness dispersed over the bits of crystal surrounding him, snuffing out the shards' luminosity and ultimately extinguishing his hope.

The figure had slipped off her glove and, in a graceful movement, picked one of the larger pieces of glass and wrapped it delicately within the cream-coloured silk.

"Link," she said cautiously, wary of his delicate state. "I want you to take this."

She presented the gift with both hands, looking odd with only one glove on. Her royal façade was stripped down when she took it off, making her seem bizarre and strange with the sudden informal gesture.

Nodding in thanks, he took the unexpected gift with blood-stained hands. Bright red inked the pale fabric, staining it thoroughly. He started towards the exit, but was halted by the princess's worried voice.

"I-If…If you ever need something, such as an occupation, or someone to talk to…." She began, unsure of how to proceed. "I am always here for you." Her voice was firm, steady, and formal again. Her composure regained itself and her embarrassment of her lost glove faded from her consciousness. She was determined to assist the Hero, for he had endured too much, seen so much for someone that was as young as he, forcing his innocent youth to be damaged prematurely. She knew what it felt like, to have responsibilities that were beyond one's years.

He muttered his thanks and descended the stairs, leaving the princess speechless, concerned and unknown of his future whereabouts.

_May Nayru's wisdom guide you,_ she thought after the retreating figure. _And may Din's fire warm your broken soul._

The princess knelt down as if in prayer to the empty pedestal that once contained the Mirror of Twilight. The circular outline felt so empty and forlorn without the mirror's striking substance to fill it. She held back tears as she gingerly touched the broken pieces and examined her distorted reflection. Allowing a single sob escape from her lips, she placed a hand over her heart.

_Wherever Farore's wind settles you, may you find peace._


	2. Chapter 1: Reunion

**Author's Note: **Special thanks to Kogarashi and 7he Goddess Din for being my beta readers!

* * *

**~ Chapter One ~**

**Reunion  
**

* * *

The people had always loved the princess. Her elegant disposition remarkably resembled her mother, the late Queen Adela. The queen was admired throughout the provinces and was known for her nobility, loyalty, and utmost kindness; the exact opposite of her ambitious husband, King Lionel. He was a strong leader, one who was driven by wealth and success for the good of his people, even at the expense of others. Their daughter inherited a combination of their respective qualities. The princess had an undeniable determination that paralleled her father's, yet her mother's consideration allowed her to empathize and care for her subjects. After her father's death and her ascension as the new ruler, it was the reason why she had decided to hear petitions in her throne room, no matter the scornful comments of her advisors. Before the Twilight Realm clashed into her world, it was a heated topic that was always up for debate. She faced an unfair battle of three versus one, and felt unimportant in the dismissal of her just contributions.

"Your father never allowed a commoner to set foot in the same room as him," one said, "let alone talk."

With some deductive reasoning, her arguments deflated any disagreements that darted from their disdainful mouths. Defeated and frustrated, the advisors grew a dislike for the princess's temperament. Their first conflict signalled a change; there was a new monarch on the throne, one who had different views than the previous, yet the same unyielding hold onto benevolent beliefs.

Her advisors' annoyed gazes now followed her neck as she marched towards the throne room. They had recently another heated debate regarding important topics - what would be done with her delayed coronation, the reconstruction of Hyrule castle, and the need for financial aid? She agreed that these issues needed to be dealt with, but her advisors' solutions were obstinately one-sided. It angered her that they dismissed any recommendations that she had; their rude, elitist remarks made her question her confidence in authority.

"If you cannot see my perspective," she vented, "then I am afraid I must find advisors to replace you."

She arose from her seat and stormed out of the room, irritated that they had forced her to make an ill-mannered exit, humiliated at the irrational threat that had issued from her mouth. It made her feel silly, for she was certain gossip would circulate, and they would be the source of it, her reputation as an authority figure ruined by respected men. She scoffed at the thought._ Respect_. They hadn't shown her any of it, and their closed-minds were not respectful at all. She willed herself to calm down and force the negative thoughts out of her consciousness. Besides, there was a petitioning to attend to. The people of Hyrule had better suggestions than the group of cuccos she left.

The throne room had seen better days. It was once a magnificent structure, its architecture majestic and resilient, providing a sense of wonderment for all those who entered. The symmetrical simplicity and opened-spaces made anyone feel insecure, a smart tactic her father used to ensure the nervousness of his visitors. She hoped to change this in the reconstruction plan, for she didn't enjoy the discomfort of others, especially the ones who did not need to feel intimidated by new surroundings. She opened the large double doors and halted at the threshold. Her heart seized and her lungs inhaled sharply, giving a little gasp. She muffled it as soon as it had come out, because she didn't want her advisors to hear her breath, to see her shoulders jolt. Such signs revealed weakness, and such a weakness was the memory that emerged at the sight of the room in ruins. The pillars were in crumbles, and one of the goddess' statues had been decapitated, its bodiless head breathing swirling winds, as if she was still alive in such morbid disfigurement. She willed her anxiousness to remain at the back of her mind. She would not have a break down in front of her advisors.

"Princess Zelda," one advisor intruded, "it is unsafe to enter. Without the support of the pillars, the roof can collapse at any given moment."

She ignored his obvious statement. Without turning to face them, she gripped her black skirts and asked, "Conradin, why isn't this tidied?"

"Your Majesty, Ganondorf's death had to be attended to."

She measured the hesitance in his voice, the way he carefully chose his words. She saw through them and immediately knew that he was mangling the truth.

"It has been a week since Ganondorf's defeat. Surely there was a substantial amount of time for the reconstruction." She paused to think. "Besides, it was the Sages' responsibility. Your assistance was unnecessary."

There was a brief silence behind her, before the eldest advisor, Minoru, coolly responded.

"The death of the Water Sage has kept them occupied, Lady Princess."

Again, the words seemed to be a distorted truth. The way he delivered it, as if rehearsed. Slowly she turned towards them to analyze their facial expressions and body language; Minoru had crossed his arms, his jaw set and his light grey eyes boring into her gaze. She shifted her scrutiny towards the other two. Adjacent to Minoru was the gentlest advisor, Alin, his kind eyes averted, staring hard at the floor with false interest. Conradin gave her a small smile, yet his eyes did not coincide.

A sudden realization struck her. They had neglected the reconstruction deliberately, and for a reason they thought was valid. So against they were for the interaction between the monarch and her people, they had acted against her wishes. Her edict of petitions had never been passed; the document was most likely a blank parchment in the darkness of a closed drawer.

Heated anger flared within her, transmitting to every nerve in her body. She felt her face grow hot, its heat racing towards her eyes, turning them into a vivid blue sternness. She bit her tongue as a refrainment from making another outburst.

Giving each man a slight nod, she spoke in a tone of utmost serenity.

"This discussion shall continue tomorrow."

They bowed towards her, giving their agreements and farewells before retreating to the end of the hall, turning the corner, and ducking out of sight. She had enough of their talk today; their quick words filled with deception and haughtiness, their gestures well-disciplined and practiced. They had not insulted her verbally, yet she felt like they had. There was no excuse to yell at them, although she would like to channel her anger towards all of her advisors, even kind Alin.

Alin had been her favourite of her fathers' advisors when she was little. He had always given her a little wave and a goofy grin while passing down the castle's corridors; the others had ignored her and rarely interacted with her, for they had served her father and did not have the optimism to fight his oppressiveness. Anyone who had served him knew that he was hot-headed and stressed most of the time. His bad temper and tension seemed to be contagious, consuming anyone who worked with him-or for him-like wildfire. It had seemed that over the years, even Alin had been burnt out. Yet he was a strong man. He had survived her father's wrath for many years. King Lionel originally had twelve advisors, all the best in Hyrule who were admitted for their intelligence and rationality. His high expectations had whittled down the twelve into three due to a heavy workload and his ferociousness.

Her display today paralleled her father's infamous temper tantrums. At least she had withheld most of them.

She sighed, looking at the surroundings that drew her back into the present. She noticed she still stood within the threshold of the door, so she peered into the throne room, looked at the ceiling, and decided that she would enter. To think and to cool down, she needed to be alone. No one would enter a room that appeared dangerous. Her faith in Hylian architecture allowed her to walk beneath an unsupported ceiling with no fear. Others who would see her would laugh at her faithfulness, calling it naiveté combined with stupidity. But then again she was the princess. They wouldn't dare laugh; instead, they would keep their opinions to themselves and call a guard to retrieve her from the room.

Her life had always been spent within the safety of her castle, confined within the secured walls. It was like a large, scaled, luxurious, and ostentatious golden cage. She had always wished for something exciting to happen when she was younger. Tales of adventures and pirates, of mystical lands beyond Hyrule, heroic stories filled with romance and bravery. She lived through these stories, and had wished for something similar to happen. And something did happen. Zant's invasion, the release of the Twilight Realm upon hers, the Twilight Princess close to death. The true ruler of the Twilight Realm was the only solution to the problem. And the Princess of Hyrule had aided her, along with an ordinary youth, who was not so ordinary anymore.

The news of Link's heroics had spread like a blaze. It travelled throughout the provinces and landed squarely in Hyrule Castle Town, where she had heard rumours of his location. Upon her return from the Great Desert, she eavesdropped while passing by the townspeople, for she could not help but feel the guilt wound up inside of her. If only she could have helped him more, if she could give him comfort, or more advice, her guilt would cease.

The fame of his heroics would not mend him. Link had lost a loved one, had been burdened with the hope of thousands, and had been inflicted with grievous injuries, both internally and externally. To him the mere thought of failure would mean the end of the world. And yet he had endured fear to an incapable extent. Death faced him in the eye various times, he saw horrendous things others couldn't, and he faced thousands of enemies alone. _No, not alone_, she corrected herself. _With Midna, the Twilight Princess_.

Midna had been his comforter, although she hadn't known it in the beginning. With her quick quips and remarks, she had eased his mind from escaping sanity. In a world of darkness he had felt an isolation that he had never felt before. The inability to be seen by others when they couldn't had frightened him. So severe was it that he thought he might have gone insane. The company of Midna reminded him that he was not alone in his burden.

Now that she was gone, Zelda was afraid for his mental state. There was no cushioning for any insecurity he would feel, no reinforcement that could allow him to live normally again. She was the only one who had witnessed his desperation. She knew that he would try to put on a brave face, that he would reject any concerns for him. There was truly no one there to understand the harmful experiences he had endured-except for her.

She sat down on the body of the headless Goddess statue, placed her elbows on her knees, and settled her hands on her cheeks, sighing softly.

The nightmare she had lived. She laughed at the irony of it. To think that she had once wished to live an adventure. It was not what she had expected. The fear that had enveloped her, the worry she had felt for her people, the feeling of vengeance and pure hatred that had been directed towards her by Ganondorf, it all had put a permanent strain on her.

She did not know how to handle it.

She panicked at the thought of this, then calmed herself. What would her parents do? Her mother, the emotional supporter, would help her through it step by step with patience. Her father's methods, although cruel, would allow her to erase it from her mind. But the only people in the world who she confided with, her family, was now deceased.

She rubbed her brow with her forefinger and thumb. She would be the only one to manage this burden. Its suppression from her mind would be insufficient; she would just have to live with her anxieties.

The echo of footsteps halted her train of thought. She looked for the source, which came from the main entrance, and saw a young man clad in green looking at the ruined surroundings with mild dread.

Her heart raced. _Could it be…?_

She arose from her seat and trod on the blue river of carpet that stretched from the throne to the entrance. Her movement caught his eyes, and they widened with alarm. Still he continued to move forward, his face a pale oval above a suit of green.

Her gaze searched his, but he turned his face turned towards a ruined pillar, tattered banners, or glassless windows. She lowered her eyes and noticed his unnatural movements. His body was taut, his muscles clenching as he forced his head to stand upright.

The two met in the middle of the room. It felt like time itself had slowed as millions of thoughts raced through her head. She didn't know what to say to him, but was curious as to why he had come to see her.

He looked anywhere but at or near her person. She suddenly understood why. This meeting had reminded him of his fight with her possessed body. His entrance into the throne room, its evil presence walking down the aisle, sword in hand, ready for a battle, its full purpose to end his life. This time Ganondorf's haunting voice did not speak, she had no weapon, her eyes were not yellow and her skin was not a sickly, pale green. She was herself, and she wanted him to see this.

"Look at me," she commanded. His eyes skirted across hers. "_Look at me."_

His eyes landed directly on hers, sharply. She gave a little gasp at the abrupt movement and studied his eyes. The bright, crystal blue eyes she had first seen were dulled to a slate grey, mainly due to the bags beneath them. They made him appear exhaustively older, and it confirmed her theory that he had suffered insomnia. The memories of the past still haunted him, despite the happy ending others would have believed he gained.

"Link," she murmured, "why have you returned?"

* * *

Link had refused to speak to her in a room that was viable to collapse at any moment. He was concerned that the rubble would fall down upon her, causing her harm and pain. She was glad he provided her this fact, for if he hadn't, her fear of his stability would have increased

Taking him to her private drawing rooms was a risk she was willing to take. She did not want others to see him in his state, for their inquisition and admiration would inflict more anguish on him like applying salt to a wound. But if they were caught, gossip would escalate in the form of a tale of a romantic affair between the Hero and the Princess. She blushed at the absurd thought and opened a hidden door behind the throne.

"Go ahead of me," she said, not wanting for him to see her reddening face. "First door you see will lead you to my chambers."

He entered and she followed. In the poorly lit passage she saw his feet drag on the ground. The sight disturbed her. He needed rest, but his mind ignored his body's needs.

"Forgive me," his voice was weak, "but where is the exit?"

She grasped his hand and led him gently towards the end of the corridor. As she opened the oak door the summer's light soaked through them, and he squinted as their eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. He covered his eyes and groaned softly.

"Your head, does it ache?" She inquired.

He nodded as she seated him gently on a floral patterned cushion. She went to the transom windows, drawing the curtains over them, and concealing the blinding sunlight. They were now in darkness, an inexplicable terror that had haunted her in her youth, but the knowledge of his presence nearby soothed her nerves. She shook her head at her confusion and sadness between her past and present, then lit the ornate fireplace and a few candles careful to keep them dim so the light wouldn't hurt Link's sight.

She crossed the room to the oak door and closed it, revealing a floral camouflage on the other side of the passage. Remembering his sallow face, she walked to a fancy end table and picked the crystal container off of it; within it sat an assortment of rich treats.

"No, no. I'm not hungry," he said at her offer. "Just tired."

She settled into the seat opposite of him, carefully observing his movements. Curiosity filled her once again and she continued the conversation where they left off.

"Why are you here?" She asked.

He struggled to keep his body upright. The sleep deprivation had caused his shoulders to slouch, his head to lean a little towards the left, and his arms to sag. His fingers were lifeless and limp. He put a palm to his face and pushed his fair hair out of his eyes.

"I brought you a gift," he reached towards his back, then pulled back an empty hand, eyes widening when he realized the gift was absent. "I'm sorry, but it seems like I've forgotten it on my horse."

He began to get up, but she raised her hand to stop him. "I'll tell a stable hand to take care of your horse and get your gift later. For now I wish to speak with you."

He collapsed to his seat and sighed. Awkward silence ensued.

"What was it?"

"Hmm?" He looked at her, his eyes confused.

"The gift."

"It was the Ordon sword. I was supposed to deliver it to you before…" He trailed off. "Before everything happened."

He was evasive on the topic. She made note to avoid mentioning it, although her mind wanted to share her anxieties with him, to get the burden off of her chest. It felt heavy, like those ridiculous headdresses she had to wear, and the load that she kept hidden constrained her ability to act naturally around others. Her royal façade and formal disposition were what she hid it behind. She needed to appear strong, a confident role model for her advisors, for her people, and for him.

"Yes. I had ordered it for my crowning ceremony. So long ago, it seems…"

"Zelda." She glanced up at the serious tone in his voice. "I didn't come here to only deliver the Ordon sword. I came here looking for employment."

She nodded solemnly. "If that is what you wish, I'll see what is available."

"It's just—"He mumbled, fiercely raking his fingers through his hair. "With all that's happened I couldn't live the life I had before. Everyone was looking at me like—like some kind of god, and it's something that I'm not used to, something that I don't want…something that I don't think I'll ever want." He sighed and directed his gaze at her. "If that makes any sense to you."

"Of course," she replied. "I experience that every day, ever since I was born. What I have learned throughout my years is to just accept it all-their stares, their speechlessness, their reveries. You have done a great honour in defending the kingdom. You shouldn't be afraid of the outcome from your good deeds, even the social repercussions."

"Everyone acts differently around me now," he replied. "I stayed in Ordon, but whenever I entered a room, the atmosphere…it felt different. No jokes, no laughter, no playful banter; it was like noisy silence. I couldn't stand it. So I left."

"Did you warn anyone of your departure?"

"I lied to Rusl. I told him that I'd only take his sword to you. He didn't ask if I'd come back; I think he already knew the answer. And Ilia…" he seemed to choke on her name. "My good friend. I told her the truth. She didn't seem happy, but I think she knew it was for the best." He rested his hands on his knees, his head hanging in remorse, regretting his hasty departure, and leaving without a proper farewell. All those children—Malo, Talo, Beth, Colin—had looked up to him as a guide to life's hardships, to be brave when instinct urged them to run. He had put on a show for them of knightly bravery, before he could crush their admiration with his true cowardice, unveiled in callous departure.

"They must hate me," he muttered. "I can't go back. I can't face them. I'm such a damn coward!" Each sentence had resonated with an intense anger and it built upon itself-in volume and in emotion-causing him to break down into tears, weeping at the last syllable.

"Oh, Link," she murmured, moving to sit next to him and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. She felt his shoulders shake, sobs of misery and anger escaping his lips. "Everyone thinks you are brave, no matter what you do. All the small acts of fear will never exceed that one act of bravery that you have accomplished. You've saved thousands of lives, and for that the world thanks you and acknowledges your bravery."

His voice sounded faint in an ocean of tears, "I can't go back, I can't go back," he repeated.

"No one's forcing you to go back," she soothed. "You can stay here for as long as you like. You'll have a good job with pay, a warm bed, decent food—"

He laughed soggily at that. It would be decent to her but to him, it would be heavenly.

"You'll have privacy here at the castle and be anonymous. No one noticed you here, and I will ensure that they never will. I promise."

"Such a large promise," he managed to say with a bit of playfulness. "I doubt that you'll keep it."

In her best haughty voice, she replied, "I'm the princess; I can do whatever I want."

He laughed at that, at her risible imitation of herself. He had never known she could joke; all those brief moments he had spent with her were so solemn that it was intimidating. And yet here she was now, the princess quipping humour to make him feel better. Her badly exaggerated mockery had done him some good.

He lifted his aching head, cheeks tear-streaked and red eyes, and flashed a flushed smile towards her._ Thank you_, it managed to convey.

He looked more cheerful now. His eyes did not seem as dead now, shining with renewed stamina. She grinned back at his stunning gaze, a momentous treasure she would always cherish.

"I needed to let that out," he said. "The others wouldn't have understood me. They didn't see it like you and I."

Her chest had begun to swell up inside of her, blossoming into an unimaginable happiness that she had never experienced before.

_Helping others is what makes us truly happy, _her mother's voice echoed, _spreading joy and love to those who need it; such benevolent acts are what define our goodness. _

As quickly as it had come, the feeling wilted and disappeared, and the pain that replaced it flickered through her eyes.

"Link," she said. "I…"

His content face looked up at her, questioningly. The fire's light shied away from her face, the night's darkness concealing her watering eyes like a cloak, and she was glad, because she had second thoughts and decided to restrain her worries. He needn't hear any of them; they would only pile onto his own.

"I…will go call that stable hand," she stammered. "Remain here, please."

His voice started in bewildered objection, but she did not fully hear his words; she practically rushed out of the room, her movements a flurry of skirts, her mind a tangle of webs, her heart entwined with mixed emotions. She felt the contrasting battle of agonizing happiness, soothing sorrow, and the strange feeling of hope's comfort alleviating her heart's confusion. It whirled in her chest like a graceful dancer in a sea of masks.

* * *

When she returned, with gift in hand, she quietly opened the heavy door and closed it behind her.

The candles had melted to their bases and the only source of light came from the marble fireplace, its eerie glow casting a low light. The room was shrouded in darkness. "Link?" she whispered.

There was no reply.

She panicked. She did not know where he could be if he wasn't here, and she worried for his sake and felt like she was the only one who could help him. He had done the world a great favour, yet no one had returned his kindness appropriately. She felt like that at times, and this connection they shared had rewarded him with one of her rare smiles.

The panic subsided into a feeling of abandonment, then transitioned into repentant longing.

She sighed. She should have known. He only came to visit, to drop the sword off, to give a quick speech and leave. He would be a lonely traveller, she supposed, wandering aimlessly, leaving all that haunted him behind.

She went to the fireplace and placed a log in, and another, and another. Each log represented her pent up frustration. She wanted her frustration to be gone. She wanted it to become smaller. She wanted to burn it into ashes, to fly with the wind and the sky and never find its way back to its owner.

The fire that blazed before her was restricted to the fireplace, like a miniature sun concealed within a world too big for itself. It lighted every small detail of the room, from the tiny images of roses on her wallpaper to the vivid green on the couch.

Green was not part of her room's palette.

The revelation that he hadn't left halted her log burning, and she sat there, flabbergasted. Strange relief washed over her like a cool wave, extinguishing her brief grievance. Her selfish desire to have him stay allowed her to truly believe that he abandoned her, like so many other hurtful memories he ran from.

He was asleep. His head leaned on the backrest, his body still upright, his long legs entwined at the ankle. He had fallen asleep while waiting for her. She felt oddly touched at this fact, and a smile had crept up to her face. She repositioned his body on the couch so he wouldn't wake with neck pains, propping his feet up and taking off his heavy boots, then covered him with a warm blanket.

She walked over to the window and welcomed the summer night's breeze into the warm room. It encircled her, blowing the pale curtains around her dark skirts, twisting the contrasting fabrics into a midnight's sky embedded with luminous clouds.

She felt an unfamiliar discomfort around her mouth and realized, with happiness, that her muscles had carved themselves into a full-fledged smile.

She looked back and studied his sleeping face. The way his soft eyelids fluttered from pleasant dreams. The way sleep acted like the body's natural drug, erasing the painful memories that he had so desperately fought, his body no longer fighting itself, but succumbing into the beauty of sleep. It made him look innocent and young again.

As the wind blew and the fire crackled, the princess watched as his lips twitched into a smile. It was as if it belonged to a man at peace.


	3. Chapter 2: Acquaintance

**~ Chapter Two ~**

**Acquaintance**

* * *

Darkness drowned her like the dark depths of the ocean, cold and unwelcoming, the ominous shadows tormenting her wariness. The childhood fear that she thought she conquered returned, and she was a little girl again, too frightened and dependent to face such an obstacle. Anything beyond her pale fingertips she could not see, and she was overwhelmingly imaginative of what lurked in the shadows. With widened eyes she reached into the darkness, attempting to gain sight through touch. She felt the unnaturally cool air caress her fingertips, sending shivers down her spine, and waded forward slowly with arms outstretched. Blindly assessing her unknown environment, she stepped forward and shuddered at its vastness. It was a dark void—empty, forlorn, silent. Its emptiness drained her vitality as she felt her racing heart. Her footsteps were barely an echo as they padded on the flat ground. She raised her right foot and placed it before her, expecting to feel the reassuring hard ground, and felt it drop into a hole. The rest of her body followed and she fell, too stunned to scream, into a black abyss.

Her hair floated around her with her white chemise, fluttering in the downward spiral, the rushing wind suffocating her ability to breathe. She didn't know how long she fell, but was glad to see a white light below her, comfortably flashing like a beacon. The light embraced her. It blinded her. It forced her to shut her eyes.

When she opened them, she saw a man in dark robes with his head bowed. He sat on a tall throne made of red plush, its golden designs encircling the seat, and above it was a statue of the Triforce, its stone goddesses embracing each piece in a circle. Within the Triforce was a lifeless figure, its face pale, eyes closed, limp arms dangling above its knees. Above the anemic face was a golden crown, shining vividly and proudly.

It was her.

She heard a gasp, a gasp that sounded like Midna's, and realized that she was seeing through Midna's eyes and feeling her emotions. Her shock was quickly replaced with anger. She couldn't contain it within her, so she shouted at this man. This man who sat on a throne that was not his. This man who had destroyed two different worlds at once, causing unspeakable terror and anguish. This man who now directed his intimidating attention to them.

And he stood there now, disdain written on his face with an evil smirk and glaring eyes. He stood there proud and tall. "Deny me then," he spoke sinisterly. "Yes, try to deny me…you and your little friend..."

As he spoke, ominous black pixels cascaded behind him, unnaturally floating upwards to its target. He stared towards Zelda's lifeless body and raised his hand as if to annihilate her once more. He already controlled her kingdom and her people, and now he wanted her power gifted by the goddesses.

She felt herself float upwards in front of her defenseless body. She looked down upon Ganondorf and a defensive determination willed her to stop him. To stop more chaos. He only gave her an unfaltering grin and dispersed into dark magic. The black cloud swarmed like locusts, noisy and plentiful, and quickly flew from the ground. It stopped briefly before her, eerily still. And all at once it flew at her like daggers, its movement piercing through the air, through her body, and to its target.

Her consciousness felt compressed, she felt herself being ripped from Midna as the dark magic pierced through them. She fought against its current, fought against its power, but surrendered, allowing the darkness to engulf her once more. There was something foreign in her, something dark and evil and it clouded her like fog. She tried to fight against its power, but it oppressed her, pushing her down with venomous strength.

When she involuntary opened her eyes, she saw a glimpse of Midna's face seeking mournful forgiveness before she flew away with a scream of terror.

* * *

Zelda's eyes opened and took in the darkness of her room. Her pulse was racing, her skin was drenched in cold sweat, and she shivered uncontrollably. She swallowed. Her throat felt dry and coarse, as if she were the one screaming. She willed herself to forget this terrible memory, a memory she suppressed with spite. The attempt was useless. Her unconscious mind decided to transform it into a nightmare as a reminder that traumatic events can never be forgotten.

The pounding in her head grew as she clutched it, tangling her thoughts like the mass of sheets she sat on. She drew her knees towards her and hugged them, resting her aching forehead and attempting to alleviate the constant thudding.

If only she'd had the willpower to stop Ganondorf, she would have never been his puppet. She would never have attacked Link. She would have diminished their suffering by one traumatic event. But she didn't. She allowed him to control her, to fight against the very cause she was fighting for. Her powerlessness left a scar on her. She was the silent observer as Ganondorf forced her to attack Link.

_Stop thinking about it, _she told herself.

She looked around the room to ease her mind off of such negative thoughts. These rooms were the Queen's chambers and used to belong to her mother. She still smelled her mother's scent, faint lavender, within the walls and felt a pang of sadness. Her mother had been mysteriously murdered when she was seven. Her father had covered up its mess with lies, telling the court that she had fallen ill rather than drugged and stabbed repeatedly. But Zelda knew the truth and was too afraid to tell it. After thirteen years of her absence, she still kept the secret within and still missed her mother. The raven-haired beauty that had enchanted her father and the entire kingdom. If only she could be like her now. No matter how hard she tried, she always felt like she was lacking in her mother's strength. Her parents' marriage had been considered a scandal, a romantic love triangle and fight for power where her mother had bewitched the king and stole him away from his bride-to-be, Lady Irma. Despite everyone's scorn towards her, Adela only showed her resilience and grace, and they gradually warmed up to her and considered her a true queen.

Zelda needed her mother's strength to charm her advisors into respect. She reddened at the events of yesterday. How could she face them again after such embarrassment?

_Stop thinking about it._

Because her mind was a tornado of worries, she pulled herself out of bed and walked towards the window. The cool air would calm the storm of thoughts raging inside of her. She unlatched them and inhaled the breeze. It blew softly and she closed her eyes in welcoming relief. When she opened them, twilight filtered through the window, its blue light shading her room in solid color. She stumbled back at the sight. It was as if she was in her tower room again, watching the shadows encase her land in darkness while she was confined. There was nothing for her to do but watch. Watch and wait.

She hated herself for doing nothing.

She sank to her knees and let her emotions free. They shouldn't be confined like she was. She allowed them to be shown because she was alone. Because no one would hear her weakness. Because she was not trying to impress anyone. She cried for her mother, for her father, for her people, for herself. She was a victim just like anyone else, and she had to remind herself of that sometimes.

* * *

She felt her feet dangle in mid-air and awoke to someone lifting her off the ground with ease. She stirred sleepily, ignoring the levitating feeling, and leaned her head against a warm shoulder.

"Mama…put me down." She mumbled, irritated at the rude awakening.

On her neck and beneath her knees were sturdy hands. They gently placed her onto the bed in a smooth movement; she didn't even recognize the soft comfort below her until she felt a cool breeze from the flapping of her sheets. She smiled at the pleasant feeling of artificial wind and opened her eyes to see who was tucking her in. The sun's yellow rays pierced through her windows and bounced off Link's golden hair. White dust danced in the morning's sunlight and swirled around him as he shook the sheets. He hadn't noticed she was fully awake.

"What are you doing?" she accused immediately, appalled at his intrusion into her bedroom. She would allow him to be in her private chambers but _not _her bedroom. That was her room and hers alone.

Link continued to shake the linen sheets while thinking for an appropriate response. He stopped for a moment and simply said, "I found you sleeping on the ground."

"Yes, I gathered that." She snatched the sheets out of his hands and covered herself up. "Give me a justifiable reason as to why you decided to pick me up—in my _chemise, _of all things—and place me into bed!"

"What's so wrong about that? You looked uncomfortable and sad."

Zelda touched her tear-stained face and still felt her tears' warmth beneath her skin. Her eyes were probably red and puffy from crying, a dead giveaway of her previous episode hours before. "Did—did you hear me?"

He said nothing and avoided her accusing eyes.

"You did, didn't you…?" She dropped her hand away from her face, ashamed.

"Your scream woke me up. I got up—without any shoes on, may I add," he gave her a knowing grin, "and immediately ran to your doors. I thought someone was in there with you, so I waited to surprise your attacker. Except I heard you crying." He sat at the foot of her bed.

She studied his face. It was opened, filled with genuine concern for her. He smiled authentically, encouraging her to return it, and his kind eyes caused her to speak truthfully. "I was in deep thought about all the bad things that ever happened to me. I saw the twilight and I broke down. It reminded me of my powerlessness. My confinement within a tower, passively watching as terror struck. And waiting. Waiting for it to be over. I cried myself to sleep and it made me feel liberated," she admitted.

"There, that wasn't so bad now, was it? You have to think about yourself sometimes, Zelda. You're too selfless always thinking about others."

"I'm a ruler. I have to think about others."

"There _are _selfish royalty. Like—"

"Zant." She finished his sentence without thinking. The sound of his name caused him to flinch, and he stood abruptly. She mentally slapped herself in the head for making such an inconsiderate remark.

He paled. "Yes. The false king." He looked away and murmured to himself. "But even he was tortured."

They were still for a moment, silently thinking of Zant. He had been ambitious and yearned for power, causing his ultimate demise. The power he'd gained was pathetic, and his life had ended miserably at the hands of Midna. Here had been a man who had intimidated her into surrendering, only to be revealed as an insane puppet to Ganondorf.

She stared awkwardly at his bare feet and smiled to herself. She wanted to change the subject, even to a stupid one. "I'm such a hypocrite. I'm sorry I overreacted."

"Huh?"

"I tucked you in and you were only returning the favor."

"Oh yeah, I was going to mention that."

"Anyways," she tossed her sheets aside and climbed out of bed. "I have plans with you today. It might change my schedule, but I want to help you in your new beginnings." She stretched her lean arms and flashed him a smile. "I'm going to give you the royal tour."

"In these clothes?" he asked.

"I suppose I'll get you something else." She eyed his green suit up and down. No one had the same shade or cut as his, and it would be obvious as to who he was with that clothing. "Something less flashy."

A faint knocking came from the other room, followed by a girl's voice. "Princess Zelda, may I enter? I have breakfast for you."

Zelda looked at Link with shocked eyes, and he returned the expression, mouth agape.

"Quickly, in here!" she whispered. She grabbed him by the arm and shoved him into her wardrobe. Link was bewildered at the gentle princess's sudden force.

She ran to her sitting room and sat down on a chair. "Come in," she called, ignoring her breathlessness.

The maid opened the door while balancing a tray of oatmeal, blueberries, and a white tea set. The warm scent of cinnamon wafted through the air as she presented the tray to the princess. Zelda watched her pour cream into the delicate tea cup and stir. When the maid finished preparing her meal, she walked over to the windows and began dusting the curtains.

Zelda began to sip her tea and said, "Jessa, please get some more food. I'm famished."

The maid answered cheerfully, "Right away, Your Majesty," and exited the door.

"It's safe now," Zelda called towards Link.

He opened the wardrobe's doors unhappily, covered in an array of vibrant skirts. "You've so many clothes! I only have this," he gestured to his Hero's attire, "and two outfits at home. This was the only formal clothing I've got."

"I'm sure with whatever occupation you get there'll be more clothes for you. Maybe even a potato sack," she joked. "Here, have some tea."

He took the cup she handed to him and sipped. "Mmm…I've never had tea with cream before, actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah. We only had infusions made from the lemongrass growing in the forest. When I was younger, I used to pick them for Ilia's tea parties. I never participated," he added at her raised brows. "I was more into horseback riding and tending the goats. I was always fond of animals."

"Sounds liberating," she replied. "I only wish I had a childhood like that."

He turned towards her, "What was yours like?"

She watched the tea ripple as she played with the cup, swishing its contents forwards and backwards. She didn't want to talk about her lonely childhood. It had felt empty after her mother was ripped away from her. After her father turned into her guardian and outright neglected her socially and emotionally. "Jessa will return soon. You don't have to go back into my wardrobe. Just stay in my bedroom and I'll close the doors."

Link hesitated at the sudden change of mood.

"Go."

He left without another word.

Jessa returned with a steaming bowl of pumpkin soup and a folded letter. "My apologies for the long wait, Your Majesty." She put the bowl down and gave her the letter. "But it is nearly noon, and Advisor Minoru requests to see you as soon as possible."

Zelda opened the letter and briefly scanned its contents.

_Your Grace,_

_Your appearance is requested immediately. The Council members have arrived to discuss the further reconstruction of Hyrule—which was so unfortunately interrupted yesterday—and your ascension as Queen. They have been growing impatient and I am afraid I cannot delay them any longer. Please attend _now.

_Your Faithful Servant,_

_Minoru_

As usual, his eloquent style flowed across the page in superior writing hand. It peeved her. "Why doesn't he retrieve me himself?" she thought aloud. "Why the fancy letter?"

Jessa glanced at her. "I suppose, Your Majesty, that Advisor Minoru likes to feel important?" She suggested.

She reread the letter again, but this time she actually read the contents. It only made her more infuriated. "They never told me about the Council!" she growled. "They always leave me out of discussions!" Realizing she sounded like a whiney child, she dashed towards a nearby oak table and scrambled for quill, ink, and parchment. She scribbled a brief note in an angry hand. "Jessa, deliver this to Minoru and tell him I'll be there soon."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Furiously, she ate her oat breakfast and left the pumpkin soup for Link. She would hurry to them and present herself as the ultimate authority. In her mind, she would dress as a true queen and act like one, and her advisors would concede to her commands.

"I take it that you're angry," Link said, appearing from behind her. His voice startled her and caused her to spill tea. She cursed at its brief hotness, its sensation irritating her even more.

"Of course I am! These men do _not_ like me at _all_. They're out to get me. Even if they don't act or look like it, they hide their true intentions and make a fool out of me." Link looked confused. "Don't you see? They never informed me when the Council arrived. They didn't even tell me there was a planned meeting!" His worried eyebrows hadn't move. Exasperated, she slumped in her seat. "Just eat your soup, Link. I'll have to show you around later. I'll tell Jessa about you. She won't tell anyone and she can help you in my place. For now, I have to get dressed."

She walked into her bedroom and shut the doors behind her. Rummaging through her wardrobe she eyed a beautiful dress. It was skillfully stitched together, a linen canvas painted with pale blue—a river flowing behind served as her train and the sleeves gracefully cascaded down like gleaming streams—silver embroidered the hems and glided up in the form of shimmering diamonds. She pulled the dress over her stained chemise and its white fabric peeked through her sleeves in small horizontal strips at the shoulders. She sat down at the vanity and was stunned at her appearance. It had been a while since she had last seen herself in different attire besides her coronation and mourning dresses. She quickly plaited her hair and inserted her favorite silver earrings.

"Oh, it's _you! _I can't believe it's really you!" She heard Jessa cry, followed by the clatter of dropped dishes.

Zelda rushed out of her bedroom and saw Jessa staring awestruck at Link. The two turned towards her.

"Oh Nayru," he murmured. He caught himself staring and glanced away, slightly blushing.

"You look like a river goddess!" Jessa exclaimed. Then she humbly added, "Your Majesty."

Smiling at their compliments, she inclined her head and asked, "Do I look regal?"

"Yes, but you're missing something." Link tapped his head. "Like a crown."

"I always forget to put that on. I wear it so often; it feels like it's attached to my head even when I'm _not_ wearing it," she retorted.

Jessa ran to Zelda's jewelry collection and presented her with a silver circlet. "So it matches," she squealed. "I'm so glad that you're dressing in color again, Your Majesty."

"I respect my father but it is time that I stop mourning. His life has passed and so will my grief." She slipped the circlet on her head and practised a low curtsy. This dress wasn't nearly as heavy as her coronation dress, which had gold armor set on the shoulders and precious jewels all over, but it was still heavy compared to her simple black dresses. They were made of dark linen, so the only weight that existed were the whale bones expertly sewn into the bodice.

The maid excitedly applauded.

"Jessa, you must tell _no one_ of our special guest," Zelda warned the bubbly girl. Her sunshine smile brightened the room at his appearance. "Bring him new clothes. You may show him around the castle, but please be back by three o'clock. I believe the meeting will be over at that time. Link," she added. "I can arrange your lodging and employment with you. I'm terribly sorry that I couldn't show you the castle myself. This meeting was uncalled for. I thought today would be insignificant. Take care," she exited the room and closed the door behind her.

Leaning against the magnificent door, she inhaled deeply, ignoring the guards deployed beside her. When she was younger, these tall, unmoving men frightened her with their eerie stillness. They were like guardian statues, positioned outside of important rooms to protect the guests within and keep the intruders out. Now they seemed to blend into the background. Silent, unblinking soldiers ready for battle.

With a soldier's image in mind, she marched off into her own war.


End file.
